Kimra Traynor Herb

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Streets
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Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features

Haunted by the feet

The shame of my feet is something which has haunted me for the past ten years or so. When I was a kid; I had regular ole feet; average size and shape.... no mutant toes or strange toenails- nothing to notice, nothing to hide. And then it happened: the regular ole feet turned into badges of shame and I had to keep those puppies under cover, lest someone see the two portraits of Dorian Grey.....errrr..... Kimra Herb.... at the end of my legs.
My hubby, of course, knew of my secret. It was he who had to bandage and apply ointment when the old dogs cracked and bled..... he who even volunteered (I promise!) to rub them when the stress of the days had them aching like crazy. A few select friends also knew about my horrible shameful feet; and they barraged me with suggestions of creams, Dr. Scholl's pumice stones..... etc, etc.... all to no avail.
Finally, fed up with hearing about my feet, I guess, my friend Kathy bought me a spa pedicure. Now, I am not pampered girl, so I had never before indulged myself in such a way. "What is involved in this." I said, eying the coupon suspiciously. I didn't like the idea, even for one minute, of having strangers work on my hideous feet.
"It will work." She was confident. Kathy, a woman of means and who is not afraid of indulging herself, was anxious for me to get the pedicure. "I think that you will never have to worry about the heel cracks again- that is," she warned, "if you use that pedicure."
She presented me with that coupon on my fortieth birthday. Three weeks from my forty-first birthday, I happened to be at the bike shop which was right next to the pedicure place. The almost one year old coupon practically begged for me to use it- and my heels were at an all time bad level of ugliness. Stifling my shame, I gathered the coupon and bravely entered the door of the shop, kind of hopeful that they would tell me that they were busy; to come back another time.
They did not.
Forty-five minutes I walked out of that joint looking like a zillion dollars. My feet, that is. Those guys were looking gorgeous- no more leathery heels, no cracks, no dead skin- nothing but radiant, shiny feet topped with fuschia toenails gleaming in the afternoon sun. My feet, I realized with delight, were the feet of a rich girl! I had rich girl feet! How do you like them apples?
When I shared my happiness over the pedicure with Kathy, she was smug. "I told you it would change your life." She said. "Now you just have to keep it up."
Keep it up? Did that mean I had to subject my feet to strangers on a regular basis?!! Dagnabit, having rich girl feet was not going to be a piece of cake! It did, however, have sweet rewards. The next day I was at cycling class and was changing into my sandals following class.
"Oh my gosh; who does your feet?"
At first I didn't realize that the woman speaking was talking to me. I was so used to hiding my feet and keeping those guys under wraps that I was shocked when I realized she was talking to ME!
"Your feet are divine!" She gushed. (She really did gush; at my feet- I promise. I was amazed beyond words at this notion).
Finally finding my voice, I managed to squeak out the name of the magicians who had transformed my ugly ducking feet into something of swans. I had the entire room in stitches when I confessed that it was the first time in a long time that my feet had looked anything remotely attractive; that I had spent years with the Grand Canyon heels of an eighty-year-old woman. I don't know why I had to spill my guts like that; I could have just told her the name of the spa and pretended that having naturally gorgeous feet was a way of life for me; that it was no big whoop- I was used to having strangers compliment me on my feet.

I don't know how long this is going to last.... having nice feet and all- I can hardly stand the joy of looking down at those feet and realizing that they are actually attached to the rest of me! In the meantime, however, I am going to enjoy every pain-free moment and spend the summer in lots of sandals.